


Made A Garden

by AetherAria



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Lizard Kissin' Tuesday (Penumbra Podcast), Other, POV Alternating, Second Citadel (Penumbra Podcast), canon typical Arum ignoring feelings, categorized as 'other' bc arum is nonbinary when i write him bye, edited to feature my Rilla's Two Dads theory, guess what! baby rilla is adorable! and baby arum is EVEN MORE OF A BRAT THAN NORMAL, i continue to not know how to tag things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-05-19 19:52:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19363219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AetherAria/pseuds/AetherAria
Summary: Rilla's parents take her out when they do field work. She's a smart kid, and she knows how not to get in trouble when they're caught up with their experiments and research. This time, they've taken her to an enormous, beautiful swamp, and their theory is that the monstrous presence in this place should be entirely dormant- which is why Rilla is so surprised, when she meets a monster for herself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time, I completely misinterpreted when the Concierge said that Rilla was meeting an old friend at the beginning of The Treacherous Heart. So, what if Rilla somehow knew Arum before the events of the podcast? What if, somehow, they were friends as children? Hopefully this will be as fun of an idea to y'all as it is to *me*, because I am hyper excited. I've got ideas for the time they spend together as kids, and then maybe some stuff about how this would change events later on, when they're adults. Also, I don't have specific ages for either of them quite pinned down for this, but I'd say that Rilla is somewhere between eleven and thirteen, probably? And Arum is a comparable age relative to her, with his weird monster biology.
> 
> Name from the song Honeybee, by The Head And The Heart, and tbh the entire album that song is from is thematically relevant to this story.

She meets him in the water.

Her parents are busy. They usually are, but they’re doing Important Work and Rilla is always a little smug when they trust her to be safe out in the wilderness. Her father explained about this place; the swamp is in a sort of hibernation, just now. A period of rebuilding and regrowth, and the monstrous presence here should be mostly dormant as it goes through this process. It’s a rare occurrence, and probably the only time that her parents will have the chance to safely catalog the life, the rare medicinal plants and fungi that grow and thrive here. They aren’t far away as they work – they would never leave her in danger and she trusts that knowledge implicitly – but even though they’re in earshot (and the whistle they gave her for emergencies would reach them even further than that), she can’t see them.

Rather. She couldn’t see them if she were standing. Of _course_ she can’t see them now, because she’s drifting, floating on her back in the water, and she can’t see much of anything at the moment besides branches and leaves and sky. She discovered a pond, clearer water among the more murky swamp, cool green dotted with lilypads she compulsively chimed out the species of as she identified them. The pond is small enough and the sun is low enough that the light isn’t too bad in her eyes, dappled through the canopy and gentle on her face, and among the cicada noise and frog noise and gentle lapping of the water she feels _serene_. She’s never had an exact feeling to match that word before, but Rilla thinks that she understands, now. This place is magic – her parents told her so - and it _feels_ like magic. It feels sleepy, and untroubled, and safe. It makes her feel… something. It’s like the opposite of how she felt about _serene_. Instead of knowing the word but not knowing the feeling to match, she just doesn’t have the right label for the way this place makes her feel.

She knows that it makes her want to stay here as long as her parents will allow, though. It makes her want to sing, too, so she does. Soft, bouncing rhymes, mostly. Not quite lullabies, but fairy-story-songs, like her dad sings while he's working, like her father sings in the kitchen. She thinks the songs sound even nicer out here, with the hum of heat and bugs and birds for accompaniment.

Because of how still her little pond is, she very easily notices, after a while, when the ripples in the water change.

She tilts her head backward, hoping that she’ll catch a glimpse of a heron of some sort, or a goose, or maybe a big frog, but all she can see is the waves in the water, spreading in concentric circles from a point near the shore, upside down from her angle.

Rilla furrows her brow, and lets her feet sink down until she’s paddling instead of floating, but even when she’s closer to upright she can’t quite see what’s caused the disturbance.

“ _You_ are trespassing.”

Rilla startles, splashing and spinning with a sharp indrawn breath. Behind her, there is a monster. Her hand flies to the whistle around her neck, but-

Well. Rilla has never actually _seen_ a monster before.

He’s mostly beneath the water, with only his head above the surface. He looks like a lizard, with shiny mottled black-and-green scales, and a half-flared frill, and two small horns on the top of his head, and jagged, pointed teeth, and bright purple eyes with diamond-shaped pupils, and Rilla’s mind _races_ , because this creature is _fascinating_.

Her mouth hangs open for a long moment, and the lizard _glares_ at her, but he doesn’t make a move. He just sinks slightly down into the water until it is almost over his nose, a low ticking growl rising from him.

“Oh,” she says, hoping that she doesn’t sound as breathless as she feels. “Oh, uh. I didn’t know?”

The lizard’s eyes narrow further, and he lifts his mouth out of the water again to say, “That’s not an _excuse_.”

His voice is interesting, too- it’s half growl, but it’s also a little reedy, and petulant, and his inflection is a little _off_. He sounds _young_ , she thinks, and he actually seems much smaller than she was expecting a monster to be.

“Well. I just wanted to swim,” she says, not backing up so long as he isn’t coming towards her. “Am I disturbing anything? I was really careful not to pull on any of the water lilies.”

The lizard’s eyes dart around, taking in the still water and the plant life gently moving in the soft wind, his tongue flicking out into the air. His low, continuous growl pitches a little lower, and a little softer, and when he looks back towards her he shrugs beneath the water, his expression begrudgingly placated. “Nnnnno… you haven’t disturbed anything… _yet_.” He lifts himself a little further out of the water, tilting his head in consideration. “But _humans_ don’t _belong_ here.”

Rilla snorts out a laugh, and the lizard, shockingly, flinches back at the noise, his eyes going wide.

“Well, _yeah_. But if humans didn’t go where we don’t belong we’d never go _anywhere_. And this swamp is a monster place, but it’s supposed to be _dormant_ right now.”

“Dormant?” The lizard tries to sneer, but something about his expression looks more confused than anything. “It’s a _swamp_. It’s not like a swamp can _sleep_.”

“It’s supposed to be going through a rebuilding and regrowth period,” Rilla insists, tone utterly confident and her phrasing directly echoed from her father.

“It’s _my_ swamp, I think I would _know_ if it was…” he trails off, his brow furrowing thoughtfully.

“ _Your_ swamp?” Rilla asks after a moment.

The lizard focuses back on her, and his frill flattens against his neck as he raises his snout in the air smugly. “ _My_ swamp,” he repeats. “I am _Lord_ of this place. Lord Arum.”

Rilla laughs again, and again the lizard startles, staring hard at her. “Arum like the lily or Arum like the corpse flower?” she asks, and he _scowls_.

“Neither,” he says in a more insistent growl. “Arum like _me_.”

“Well,” Rilla says, and he might be a monster but he’s so _interesting_ that she can’t help her grin, “ _my_ name is Amaryllis. Like the flower, _and_ like me.”

“Amaryllis,” he echoes. “Those are _poisonous_ , you know.”

Rilla laughs again, and thinks, _he_ _’s not really trying very hard to make me leave, is he_?

Then, Rilla's dad calls out her name. Closer than expected, but still out of sight.

Arum blanches, sinking even further into the water, until he is chin-deep. “H-how many _humans_ are in my swamp?” he asks, voice frantic and eyes wide.

“Just-” Rilla almost swims a little closer, but she stops herself. He looks… very _scared_. She didn’t know that monsters could get scared. “Just my parents and me,” she says. “Don’t worry. They aren’t knights or anything.”

“I’m-” he growls, but it comes out a little weak. “I’m not _worried_. Of course I’m not-”

Her father’s voice comes this time, closer still, and Arum flinches, his frill flaring like a bird puffing out its feathers to make itself look bigger.

“I… uh. I should go,” Rilla says, and Arum blinks at her for a moment in confusion before he nods very vigorously.

“You- you shouldn’t be here in the first place,” he says quickly, stiffly. “I don’t- this is- this was a _warning_ ,” he growls. “Next time I won’t be so-”

“We’re gonna be here for a couple weeks,” Rilla offers. “Maybe a month? My dad says we’re not supposed to disturb a single leaf if we can avoid it.”

“How very _generous_ ,” Arum sneers, “and how very _unlikely_. Humans _always_ disturb things.”

Rilla tilts her head, frowning. “How many humans have disturbed you before?”

“I-” Arum jerks his head back, his tongue flicking out anxiously. “Well. That is-”

“Am… am I the first human you’ve ever met?” Rilla asks, a smile starting to creep across her face.

“N-” he growls louder for a moment, then shakes his head. “Well- you- I’m certainly the first _monster_ that _you_ _’ve_ ever met,” he counters.

“Yeah,” she says, “ _obviously_.”

“So-” he scowls, gesturing through the water with a clawed hand, “so why are you not _afraid_ of me?”

It’s clear almost instantly that he hadn’t meant to say that. His scowl deepens, and he lowers himself back in the water until he’s pretty much in an alligator stance, with only the top half of his face glaring up at her from the cool green water.

“I…” Rilla stares at him, and- well, she hadn’t really thought about it. She was a little spooked when he snuck up on her, of course, but he hasn’t really _done_ anything. He has claws and jagged teeth, but so does the big dog that lazes in Festival Square and begs for scraps. Just because Arum _has_ them, doesn’t mean he’ll _use_ them. It’s like her dad says- it’s not about the weapon, it’s about whoever wields it. Her parents have always taught Rilla to believe the evidence, and currently, Rilla’s interpretation of the evidence is that this monster is just as curious about her as she is about him. He keeps _talking_ to her, and he hasn’t even _tried_ to hurt her, and he hasn’t even really threatened anything. Rilla isn’t scared of him because he hasn’t been at all _scary_. “I don’t-”

“ _Amaryllis_.” Her dad comes out of the undergrowth suddenly, at the bank of the pond, scowling but looking incredibly relieved. “What are you doing? Why didn’t you answer when we called?”

“I-” Rilla looks where Arum had been moments before, but of course he’s already gone. She wonders if he’s under the water, or if he somehow managed to slip away in the moments before her dad arrived. “I’m sorry,” she finishes lamely, kicking her way closer to the edge of the water. “I- I just didn’t wanna leave yet.”

Her dad smiles softly and holds his hands out to help lift Rilla out. “You can come back tomorrow,” he says as he sets Rilla back on her feet, and then he tucks a bit of loose hair behind Rilla's ear. “You’ve still got time, sweetheart.”

Rilla nods, and then she stares back at the water, holding her dad's hand. She watches the ripples fade, until the pond is precisely as serene as it was when she found it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Lord Arum tries his best to keep his distance, despite his curiosity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehehehehehe i am ENJOYING this fic IMMENSELY and i hope y'all are right there with me <3

Arum is absurdly careful to ensure that the human - _Amaryllis_ \- does not see him the next day, when she returns to the pond. He hides among the trees above, hoping that she will assume him more aquatic than he actually is. She seems… nervous, perhaps? Or at least expectant, for the first hour or so. She keeps scanning her eyes along the shore, among the foliage, and whenever there is a noise fairly close she perks up, her eyes lighting with… excitement?

Arum does not understand. Humans have not invaded his swamp before (not while he has been alive, at least) but he has _read_ about them, in the coded journals and memoirs of his predecessors, and he has heard stories from his Keep. Humans are supposed to be… different from this. Different from _her_.

They are supposed to be weak, brittle, fallible, inflexible and slow-minded. Easily frightened. Easily drawn to violence by their fear, and even more vicious when frightened in a group.

Amaryllis appears neither fragile nor fearful.

She swims for hours, intermittently singing to herself (her song was what had drawn him in the day before, a strange, out-of-place warble among the frogsong and birdsong, a foreign sound in his wider home), and then when her strange, soft skin is over-soaked by the water she pulls herself out to sit on the bank. She finds a wide bed of moss and spreads out upon it, murmurs _sphagnum girgensohnii_ in a pleased singsong as if she is greeting the flora. She carefully drifts her fingers across the softness before she sinks herself into the mound, and then she just- lays in the sun, for a while.

Arum is surprised to learn that humans enjoy basking, too.

Once she’s reasonably dry she pulls out a book from the little canvas bag she left on the shore and starts to write, starts to draw, and Arum creeps closer above so he can see the work of her hands. Her handwriting is clean and even, and too small to be read at a distance, but her sketches are curious. She scrawls out careful imitations of the curves of nearby ferns, then devotes some time to dragonfly wings, watching as the creatures dart along above the water, laughing her strange, high laughter when they come close to her.

When she grows tired of her book and returns to the water, Arum slinks down from the branches to the bushes, and pulls the book quietly from the bag during a long moment when Amaryllis is drifting in the water with her eyes closed.

Up close, her handwriting is full of interesting curls and curves, but it is still not quite parsable to his eye. He understands the language, certainly, but she seems to be employing a sort of shorthand he is unfamiliar with. He is still more interested in the sketches, anyway, and he nearly drops the book entirely when he sees-

Himself.

It’s a drawing of only half his face, really, from the snout up with his jaw and lower hidden beneath the surface of the water, and she captured the exact curve of his horns from memory somehow, and his eyes are glaring out from the page with wariness and- _fear_.

… she saw that? She saw that he was afraid?

No. He closes the book. No, of course she hadn’t seen- how could she have seen fear that was not there? Lord Arum has no reason to fear a single weak human, especially not some human child with an underdeveloped sense of self-preservation.

Arum tucks the book away again, back into the canvas bag, and while Rilla sings quietly to herself, he beats a tactical retreat.

The next day it rains, hard and relentless and cool, and Amaryllis does not return to the pond. Arum finds the large tent the humans are sheltering in after minimal searching, though.

Apparently humans are not so fond of rain. They remain inside the tent for most of the day, and he can see them in half-obscured silhouette through the cloth, through the flaps that ruffle in the wind, apparently sketching and writing in more books like the one Amaryllis keeps. They speak to each other in easy, fond tones about how certain ‘research’ should be ‘organized’, until apparently that begins to bore them.

One of the taller humans (Amaryllis’ parents? Was that what she said?) pulls out an instrument, a short-necked, pear-shaped thing with an abundance of strings, tunes it with skillful speed, and then he begins to play.

The song is adeptly performed. There are so many strings, and the human’s fingers move so nimbly Arum can barely keep tabs on them (they must _have_ to, since he has so few digits with which to work), and then Arum is distracted from the effort of watching his playing when the three of them start to sing.

Amaryllis singing on her own was… pleasant. In a simple sort of way. A _childish_ sort of way. And Arum is quite familiar with harmonies, of course. He hears the things the Keep is saying underneath its song, but he does still hear the song as well, and on occasion it will sing him a song he enjoys enough to sing along with. At night, typically, when he is close to sleep.

The harmony the three humans create is-

It feels familiar. It feels precisely how singing with the Keep feels.

It disquiets him, these humans and their strange-familiar song. He slips away in the rain, scrambling quick until he can no longer hear them, and then he calls for a way home.

The third day after he meets Amaryllis, he watches her as she picks her way around a patch of berry-laden bushes (not _eating_ any of the berries, thankfully- they may look like an edible fruit, but magical flora can be quite tricky and not even Arum knows for sure if this happens to be a patch of something that would kill the human on ingestion or not), and as she wanders she becomes distracted by a grouping of overlarge purple-and-gold butterflies flouncing over her head.

She is _too_ distracted. She does not see the danger.

Arum panics. He whips his tail down below the leaves, slips it around Amaryllis’ waist and _jerks_ her back, just barely in time to keep her out of the way when the sickly gray-blue flower hanging from the branch ahead of her belches out a cloud of vicious, poisonous orange spores.

“Watch where you’re _going_ ,” he barks in alarm, “you stupid little human!”

He sees the moment when she recognizes his voice, and then- he panics _again_. He unwinds his tail from around her midsection (humans run _unreasonably_ hot, he thinks) and clambers higher into the foliage, where she will hopefully be unable to see him.

Arum watches from his new perch as Amaryllis takes a large, careful step away from the still-hanging orange cloud, and then she aims her eyes upward, searching for him. He growls automatically, which- was the wrong thing to do, because her attention hones in close to his position and he feels compelled to scramble another branch or two away until he feels safe from her gaze.

“Ah… Arum?” she calls out, her eyes still scanning where the leaves are swaying in his wake.

Arum’s mouth curls into an unhappy frown, and he keeps deliberately quiet and still. Perhaps he can fool her into thinking that he has already gone away, and then he can leave in earnest when she runs back to her little family.

“Well…” she is still looking upward, still looking for _him_. “Uh… thank you for that, I think?”

“ _Don_ _’t_ -” Arum snaps before he can stop himself, furious that she would do something so horrible as to- “Don’t _thank_ me!”

He is still hidden from her, but obviously she knows generally where his voice is coming from, and she turns slowly on her heel as she continues to look for him, a slow half-smile curling her mouth. “I mean… I don’t know _exactly_ what that plant is, but I figure it probably would have been pretty bad for me if I breathed any of that orange stuff in, right? And I _definitely_ would have just walked right into it if you didn’t… kinda… you know… _save_ me-”

“S-stop that!” Arum drops back down, just enough that he can stick his head through the leaves and scowl at her upside-down, his frill flaring with irritation and with gravity. “I did not _save_ you, don’t be ridiculous-”

“What would you call it, then?” she asks, crossing her arms and looking up at him.

He opens his mouth to answer and- does not know. His jaw snaps shut. He tries again, with equal success, then settles for a glare as she raises an eyebrow at his lack of explanation.

“So…” she says, her voice musical, “I think you might deserve, y’know, just a _little_ thank-you for-”

“ _No_ , I most certainly _don_ _’t_.”

Amaryllis giggles, apparently unable to contain her mirth as she looks at him, and he glares automatically in response, his teeth snapping together, but then he feels his cheeks twitch and he- chokes out half a laugh of his own in response, completely unable to stop himself. He feels his his frill pull tight to his neck with mortification, and he pulls his head back up behind the leaves, where she cannot see him bury his face in his hands as he starts to scramble away.

Ridiculous ridiculous ridiculous- of _course_ he laughed with- no, he was laughing _at_ her, of _course_ he was, because she’s just a silly little human, wandering and nearly getting her stupid self killed-

“Wait, don’t go!”

Scowling viciously, he pops his head back down, and Amaryllis has to turn to spy his new position. “Why not?” he snarls.

“Because-”

Arum waits. Amaryllis stares at him, and now it is her turn to work her jaw without giving an answer. After a moment, she clasps her hands together in front of herself and bites her lip.

“I… I don’t know. I just don’t want you to leave.”

Arum stares at her. He stares at her for what feels like a long time, but she does not say anything else. She does not look away from him either, her dark eyes catching the light drifting through the foliage and turning intermittently molten and deep amber, like buckwheat honey backlit by the sun.

“Don’t be foolish,” he says, his voice scratching low. “Run back to your family, little human. Clearly,” he growls, “clearly you do not belong here.”

Then, before the frown furrowing her brow can grow any further, before she can retort or respond, he bolts. He darts from branch to branch and away, his heart hammering with shame and confusion at his own actions and Amaryllis’ words, and this time she does not call after him.

He is confused by that, as well. Confused by his disappointment, when he does not hear her voice again.


End file.
